


I've Found You

by regretting my username_ (777imou_offline367)



Series: KnB - Snippets, Ideas, Drabbles, The works [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: But not exactly, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari, Introspection, Loneliness, M/M, Midorima Shintarou-centric, One Shot, Reincarnation, Sad and Happy, Sad with a Happy Ending, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Why isn't that a tag?, Young Midorima Shintarou, actually the pairing is more, but its basically confirmed in the end so, but its canon hurt!, since its sad i guess theres some minor hurt so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/777imou_offline367/pseuds/regretting%20my%20username_
Summary: Midorima Shintarou had never really understood what it was that he was missing in life.It was a longing need somewhere engraved into his soul, an aching want for something once forgotten – for someone that could no longer be fully remembered. It sat burning like an icy flame, scorching his insides with a chill that he could not conquer all on his ownUp until he met him.
Relationships: Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari
Series: KnB - Snippets, Ideas, Drabbles, The works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889602
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	I've Found You

Midorima Shintarou had never really understood what it was that he was missing in life.

No, it wasn’t as if he gotten hit in the head and received amnesia, forgetting his past childhood and all those he had once loved – if that had happened, his mother would’ve brought it up at some point.

It wasn’t referring to the slight envy and longing he felt in the time during his elementary years where he would observe the other children getting along and him being excluded for being “weird,” either – he got used to that a while ago and, frankly, couldn’t make himself care enough to put up false pretenses. And, although it seemed similar, it was not like he had grown up with something by his side only to have carelessly lost it somewhere, unable to ever be retrieved again on this Earth – he would’ve remembered something like that. If not him, then his mother _definitely_ would’ve brought it up some time ago. 

What Midorima felt was a deep, deep yearning. A longing need somewhere engraved into his soul that pulsed with an aching want for something once forgotten – for _someone_ that could no longer be fully remembered. It sat burning like an icy flame, scorching his insides with a chill that he could not conquer all on his own; could never hope to extinguish without _that person_ by his side.

Of course, he had tried many ways to ease that chilling emptiness that resided somewhere beyond his soul. He learned that studying and practicing calligraphy would make the yearning quiet down for a short while and drinking tea with his father or being in the presence of his family would make the loneliness go down just a little more. When listening to Oha Asa and the decrees of Fate, it would make the burn soften into a pulsing and comforting warmth, especially so, he found, on days when he was most unlucky. Discovering the thrill of basketball and practicing endlessly to perfect his natural skill would take him somewhere where the chill would not bother him – like it understood that this would be an important part in life for little Midorima.

By far, however, the most effective method had been when he first began to learn music from his mother on their great black piano. Sitting there, allowing his fingers to dance across the smooth ivory keys, he found that the little icy ball in his soul would simmer down, nestling contently as it listened to him play all kinds of melodies: those that he learned to read, those that he practiced from memory, those that he would hear and try to transpose, those that he covered; even fragments from songs he had never once heard before – songs meant to attack and defend those he held dear, that had once called to those that had long passed, and one written with nothing but the pure unaltered feelings that he could never hope to describe dedicated to the one that he yearns for, desires, misses, lo--- 

But it scared him, sometimes – this ache inside of him.

Sometimes, it felt like there was someone else inside of him – someone once so inspiring-ly powerful and terrifyingly lonely bottled up in the small frame of his ever-growing body.

Sometimes, it felt like he was not ever Midorima Shintarou to begin with.

But all those times that icy ball would suddenly unwind, spreading throughout his body in a soothing cool as if to reassure him that this wasn’t the case - that there was no one else inside of him, for that someone was long gone; he wouldn’t ever be anyone else but Midorima Shintarou, at least not for this life in which he has yet to fully experience.

And so, he lived his first several years of life like that: lonely and isolated with a frozen inferno blazing emptily in his chest and nothing but his books, family, music, and basketball to help him cope. It was not what one would call a very… ‘lively’ way of life, but it was how he preferred it and it was enough that those who currently mattered understood that.

Middle school brought with it a lot of drama from the appearances entering his life in the form of his new, elite basketball team. He spent the next three years of his life getting a taste of camaraderie, victory, joy, contentedness, and friendship followed by the bitter sting of disappointment, resignation, sadness, and a growing sense of pride stemming from the aggressive return of loneliness that followed the fall out of the Generation of Miracles. 

Never had he resonated more with that icy ball in his chest than at the time when he and friends were distanced and destroyed by their own talent.

But it was fine – really, it was.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had to deal with the emptiness around him and so Midorima simply continued to live his life in accordance to how he had done so before: study, practice, play, and collect lucky items to soothe both his luck and the emptiness in his heart up until he reached high school.

Up until he met him.

He hadn’t realized it at first, felt the flickering of disbelief and scrutiny resonate together from the ball and his soul as the frivolous youth casually greeted him and laughed at his lucky item for the day seemingly without a care in the world. But then the two’s lives continued to intertwine, their strings of Fate knitting together like they were meant to be whole all along-

And, suddenly, Midorima found himself several months later in a basketball court littered with countless orange balls, empty hands in the shooting position, leaping into the air with but the faintest fear of disappointment because _‘what if we don’t make it, make this, we worked so hard and come so far, we have to make it, we have to, he deserves it-----’_

Only for it to be all blown away at the satisfyingly accurate smack of leather suddenly appearing in his palms just as he finishes getting his hands into position and he felt all the fear drown in a surge of determination and hope and adrenaline and he _shoots--_

And watches that lone basketball soar up into the air, floating for but a mere second at the tip of the arc, before crashing down through the net to score.

A perfect shot.

It was quiet; oh, so very quiet save for the hard bounce of the basketball settling unto the Earth guiding his still rapidly thundering heart to do the same. It takes a moment for it to process in his mind, an eternity of those few short seconds to let the fact that _they made it_ sink in. But then it did and Midorima is whipping around to the side to see his face-

And there he finds him, face flushed red from exercise and excitement, sweat a shiny film covering exposed skin, and a painfully beautiful, wide, disbelieving grin lighting up his face as if he were a second sun rising and _achingly familiar,_ bright silver eyes usually filled with mischief now filled with exhilaration, awe, delight, happiness, adoration;

_Love._

There he finds Takao Kazunari, gazing at him with the same exact feelings he could never describe and he finds himself sprinting towards the other faster than his mind could comprehend, scooping him up by the waist as Takao releases bubbles of laughter and joy, wrapping his arms around Midorima’s neck like it was the most natural thing in the world before the two were pressing their souls and smiles together in triumph and elation.

_They did it; we did it. I found you; you found me. I love you; I missed you. I’ll always come back to you; I’ll always find you no matter where we go._

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote and decided to share - my first and, hopefully, not last fanfic on here. Can you guess who exactly were the souls reincarnated in my two boys? Feel free to comment your thoughts down below!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and stay safe!! 
> 
> -imou


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